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Anthony Hope was an English novelist and playwright. He was a prolific writer, especially of adventure novels but he is remembered best for only two books: The Prisoner of Zenda (1894) and its sequel Rupert of Hentzau (1898). These works, "minor classics" of English literature, are set in the contemporaneous fictional country of Ruritania and spawned the genre known as Ruritanian romance. Zenda has inspired many adaptations, most notably the 1937 Hollywood movie of the same name.Collection of 27 Works of Anthony Hope A Man of MarkBeaumaroy Home from the WarsCaptain DieppeComedies of CourtshipDolly DialoguesFather StaffordFrivolous CupidHalf a HeroHelena's PathIndiscretion of the DuchessMr. Witt's WidowMrs. Maxon ProtestsQuisantéRupert of HentzauSecond StringSimon DaleSophy of KravoniaSport RoyalStories by English Authors EnglandThe Chronicles of Count AntonioThe God in the CarThe Great Miss DriverThe Heart of Princess OsraThe King's MirrorThe Prisoner of ZendaThe Secret of the TowerTristram of Blent
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The Premium Complete Collection of Anthony Hope
Detailed Biography of Anthony Hope
A Man of Mark
Beaumaroy Home from the Wars
Comedies of Courtship
Half a Hero
Indiscretion of the Duchess
Mr. Witt's Widow
Mrs. Maxon Protests
Rupert of Hentzau
Sophy of Kravonia
Stories by English Authors England
The Chronicles of Count Antonio
The God in the Car
The Great Miss Driver
The Heart of Princess Osra
The King's Mirror
The Prisoner of Zenda
The Secret of the Tower
Tristram of Blent
Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins was born 9 February 1863 at Clapton House, Clapton, London, England. He was the youngest child of the Reverend Edwards Comerford Hawkins (d. 1906) headmaster of St John's Foundation School for the Sons of Poor Clergy, and Jane Isabella Grahame.Hawkins attended his father's school, then went on to Marlborough College, where he was editor of The Marlburian. He then attended Balliol College, Oxford, became president of the Oxford Union in 1886 and graduated with honours in 1886. He was called to the bar by the Middle Temple in 1887 and had started writing short stories. He privately published the satire A Man of Mark in 1890.
Hawkins lived with his widowed father while pursing his career in law and writing. Father Stafford was published in 1891 but Mr Witt's Widow (1892) was his first taste of success. Sport Royal, (1893) A Change of Air (1893) and Half-a-Hero (1893) followed. Hawkins story of political court and intrigue, The Prisoner of Zenda (1894) `being the history of three months in the life of an English gentleman', is set in the fictional Germanic kingdom of Ruritania, which coined the term `Ruritania’, meaning `the novelist's and dramatist's locale for court romances in a modern setting.' (Oxford English Dictionary). It was an immediate success due to its charming and witty protagonist adventurer Rudolf Rassendyll and was adapted for theatre in 1895.
The God in the Car, a political story was published in 1894. Originally a serial published in the Westminster Gazette the Dolly Dialogues (1894) are poignant and witty sketches of society. Later this same year Hawkins would leave the bar to devote his full attentions to writing. Titles to follow were The Chronicles of Count Antonio, The Heart of the Princess Osra, (1896) and Phroso (1897) which were reviewed favourably. Hawkins embarked on a three-month lecture tour of America in 1897. He wrote Simon Dale in 1898 but it was his Rupert of Hentzau (1898) sequel to Zenda that restored his popularity. The King's Mirror followed in 1899 which Hawkins felt was his best work. Quisanté was published in 1900 and in the same year he was elected chairman of the committee of the Society of Authors. Hawkins also tried his hand at writing plays and The Adventure of Lady Ursula was produced in 1898.On 1 July 1903 Hawkins married Elizabeth Somerville (1885/6–1946) with whom he had two sons and a daughter. For the next fourteen years they would live at 41 Bedford Square. A year later Double Harness (1904) was published, and his book about his love of acting A Servant of the Public came out in 1905. Sophy of Kravonia, (1906) Second String (1910) and MrsMaxon Protests (1911) followed to mixed reviews. Though his writing career was waning he secured a respectable income from film rights and reprints. During World War I Hawkins would work for the Ministry of Information to counteract German propaganda, writing tracts including The New (German) Testament (1914). Hawkins was knighted for his services in 1918. Beaumaroy Home from the Wars (1919) was published a year later while Hawkins was suffering from long bouts of depression. 1927 saw Memories and Notes published.
Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins died at his home at Heath Farm on 8 July 1933 of throat cancer.
A MAN OF MARK
AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA," "THE INDISCRETION OF THE DUCHESS," ETC.
"A wise man will make more opportunities than he finds,"
THE MOVEMENT AND THE MAN II. A FINANCIAL EXPEDIENT III. AN EXCESS OF AUTHORITY IV. OVERTURES FROM THE OPPOSITION V. I APPRECIATE THE SITUATION VI. MOURONS POUR LA PATRIE! VII. THE MINE IS LAID VIII. JOHNNY CARR IS WILLFUL IX. A SUPPER PARTY X. TWO SURPRISES XI. DIVIDING THE SPOILS XII. BETWEEN TWO FIRES XIII. I WORK UPON HUMAN NATURE XIV. FAREWELL TO AUREATALAND XV. A DIPLOMATIC ARRANGEMENT
THE MOVEMENT AND THE MAN.
In the year 1884 the Republic of Aureataland was certainly not in a flourishing condition. Although most happily situated (it lies on the coast of South America, rather to the north--I mustn't be more definite), and gifted with an extensive territory, nearly as big as Yorkshire, it had yet failed to make that material progress which had been hoped by its founders. It is true that the state was still in its infancy, being an offshoot from another and larger realm, and having obtained the boon of freedom and self-government only as recently as 1871, after a series of political convulsions of a violent character, which may be studied with advantage in the well-known history of "The Making of Aureataland," by a learned professor of the Jeremiah P. Jecks University in the United States of America. This profound historian is, beyond all question, accurate in attributing the chief share in the national movement to the energy and ability of the first President of Aureataland, his Excellency, President Marcus W. Whittingham, a native of Virginia. Having enjoyed a personal friendship (not, unhappily, extended to public affairs) with that talented man, as will subsequently appear, I have great pleasure in publicly indorsing the professor's eulogium. Not only did the President bring Aureataland into being, but he molded her whole constitution. "It was his genius" (as the professor observes with propriety) "which was fired with the idea of creating a truly modern state, instinct with the progressive spirit of the Anglo-Saxon race. It was his genius which cast aside the worn-out traditions of European dominion, and taught his fellow-citizens that they were, if not all by birth, yet one and all by adoption, the sons of freedom." Any mistakes in the execution of this fine conception must be set down to the fact that the President's great powers were rather the happy gift of nature than the result of culture. To this truth he was himself in no way blind, and he was accustomed to attribute his want of a liberal education to the social ruin brought upon his family by the American Civil War, and to the dislocation thereby produced in his studies. As the President was, when I had the honor of making his acquaintance in the year 1880, fifty years old if he was a day, this explanation hardly agrees with dates, unless it is to be supposed that the President was still pursuing his education when the war began, being then of the age of thirty-five, or thereabouts.
Starting under the auspices of such a gifted leader, and imbued with so noble a zeal for progress, Aureataland was, at the beginning of her history as a nation, the object of many fond and proud hopes. But in spite of the blaze of glory in which her sun had risen (to be seen duly reflected in the professor's work), her prosperity, as I have said, was not maintained. The country was well suited for agriculture and grazing, but the population--a very queer mixture of races--was indolent, and more given to keeping holidays and festivals than to honest labor. Most of them were unintelligent; those who were intelligent made their living out of those who weren't, a method of subsistence satisfactory to the individual, but adding little to the aggregate of national wealth. Only two classes made fortunes of any size, Government officials and bar-keepers, and even in their case the wealth was not great, looked at by an English or American standard. Production was slack, invention at a standstill, and taxation heavy. I suppose the President's talents were more adapted to founding a state in the shock and turmoil of war, than to the dull details of administration; and although he was nominally assisted by a cabinet of three ministers and an assembly comprising twenty-five members, it was on his shoulders that the real work of government fell. On him, therefore, the moral responsibility must also rest--a burden the President bore with a cheerfulness and equanimity almost amounting to unconsciousness.
I first set foot in Aureataland in March, 1880, when I was landed on the beach by a boat from the steamer, at the capital town of Whittingham. I was a young man, entering on my twenty-sixth year, and full of pride at finding myself at so early an age sent out to fill the responsible position of manager at our Aureataland branch. The directors of the bank were then pursuing what may without unfairness be called an adventurous policy, and, in response to the urgent entreaties and glowing exhortations of the President, they had decided on establishing a branch at Whittingham. I commanded a certain amount of interest on the board, inasmuch as the chairman owed my father a sum of money, too small to mention but too large to pay, and when, led by the youthful itch for novelty, I applied for the post I succeeded in obtaining my wish, at a salary of a hundred dollars a month. I am sorry to say that in the course of a later business dealing the balance of obligation shifted from the chairman to my father, an unhappy event which deprived me of my hold on the company and seriously influenced my conduct in later days. When I arrived in Aureataland the bank had been open some six months, under the guidance of Mr. Thomas Jones, a steady going old clerk, who was in future to act as chief (and indeed only) cashier under my orders.
I found Whittingham a pleasant little city of about five thousand inhabitants, picturesquely situated on a fine bay, at the spot where the river Marcus debouched into the ocean. The town was largely composed of Government buildings and hotels, but there was a street of shops of no mean order, and a handsome square, called the "Piazza 1871," embellished with an equestrian statue of the President. Round about this national monument were a large number of seats, and, hard by, a café and band stand. Here, I soon found, was the center of life in the afternoons and evenings. Going along a fine avenue of trees for half a mile or so, you came to the "Golden House," the President's official residence, an imposing villa of white stone with a gilt statue of Aureataland, a female figure sitting on a plowshare, and holding a sword in the right hand, and a cornucopia in the left. By her feet lay what was apparently a badly planed cannon ball; this, I learned, was a nugget, and from its presence and the name of the palace, I gathered that the president had once hoped to base the prosperity of his young republic on the solid foundation of mineral wealth. This hope had been long abandoned.
I have always hated hotels, so I lost no time in looking round for lodgings suitable to my means, and was fortunate enough to obtain a couple of rooms in the house occupied by a Catholic priest, Father Jacques Bonchrétien. He was a very good fellow, and, though we did not become intimate, I could always rely on his courtesy and friendly services. Here I lived in great comfort at an expense of fifty dollars a month, and I soon found that my spare fifty made me a well-to-do man in Whittingham. Accordingly I had the entrée of all the best houses, including the Golden House, and a very pleasant little society we had; occasional dances, frequent dinners, and plenty of lawn tennis and billiards prevented me feeling the tedium I had somewhat feared, and the young ladies of Whittingham did their best to solace my exile. As for business, I found the bank doing a small business, but a tolerably satisfactory one, and, if we made some bad debts, we got high interest on the good ones, so that, one way or another, I managed to send home pretty satisfactory reports, and time passed on quietly enough in spite of certain manifestations of discontent among the population. These disturbing phenomena were first brought prominently to my notice at the time when I became involved in the fortunes of the Aureataland national debt, and as all my story turns on this incident, it perhaps is a fit subject for a new chapter.
A FINANCIAL EXPEDIENT.
When our branch was established at Whittingham there had been an arrangement made between ourselves and the Government, by the terms of which we were to have the Government business, and to occupy, in fact, much that quasi-official position enjoyed by the Bank of England at home. As a quid pro quo, the bank was to lend to the Republic the sum of five hundred thousand dollars, at six per cent. The President was at the time floating a loan of one million dollars for the purpose of works at the harbor of Whittingham. This astute ruler had, it seemed, hit on the plan of instituting public works on a large scale as a corrective to popular discontent, hoping thereby not only to develop trade, but also to give employment to many persons who, if unoccupied, became centers of agitation. Such at least was the official account of his policy; whether it was the true one I saw reason to doubt later on. As regards this loan, my office was purely ministerial. The arrangements were duly made, the proper guarantees given, and in June, 1880, I had the pleasure of handing over to the President the five hundred thousand dollars. I learned from him on that occasion that, to his great gratification, the balance of the loan had been taken up.
"We shall make a start at once, sir," said the President, in his usual confident but quiet way. "In two years Whittingham harbor will walk over the world. Don't be afraid about your interest. Your directors never made a better investment."
I thanked his Excellency, accepted a cigar, and withdrew with a peaceful mind. I had no responsibility in the matter, and cared nothing whether the directors got their interest or not. I was, however, somewhat curious to know who had taken up the rest of the loan, a curiosity which was not destined to be satisfied for some time.
The works were begun and the interest was paid, but I cannot say that the harbor progressed rapidly; in fact, I doubt if more than one hundred thousand dollars ever found their way into the pockets of contractors or workmen over the job. The President had some holes dug and some walls built; having reached that point, about two years after the interview above recorded he suddenly drew off the few laborers still employed, and matters came to a dead stop.
It was shortly after this occurrence that I was honored with an invitation to dine at the Golden House. It was in the month of July, 1882. Needless to say, I accepted the invitation, not only because it was in the nature of a command, but also because the President gave uncommonly good dinners, and, although a bachelor (in Aureataland, at all events), had as well ordered a household as I have ever known. My gratification was greatly increased when, on my arrival, I found myself the only guest, and realized that the President considered my society in itself enough for an evening's entertainment. It did cross my mind that this might mean business, and I thought it none the worse for that.
We dined in the famous veranda, the scene of so many brilliant Whittingham functions. The dinner was beyond reproach, the wines perfection. The President was a charming companion. Though not, as I have hinted, a man of much education, he had had a wide experience of life, and had picked up a manner at once quiet and cordial, which set me completely at my ease. Moreover, he paid me the compliment, always so sweet to youth, of treating me as a man of the world. With condescending confidence he told me many tales of his earlier days; and as he had been everywhere and done everything where and which a man ought not to be and do, his conversation was naturally most interesting.
"I am not holding myself up as an example," he said, after one of his most unusual anecdotes. "I can only hope that my public services will be allowed to weigh in the balance against my private frailties."
He said this with some emotion.
"Even your Excellency," said I, "may be content to claim in that respect the same indulgence as Caesar and Henri Quatre."
"Quite so," said the President. "I suppose they were not exactly--eh?"
"I believe not," I answered, admiring the President's readiness, for he certainly had a very dim notion who either of them was.
Dinner was over and the table cleared before the President seemed inclined for serious conversation. Then he called for cigars, and pushing them toward me said:
"Take one, and fill your glass. Don't believe people who tell you not to drink and smoke at the same time. Wine is better without smoke, and smoke is better without wine, but the combination is better than either separately."
I obeyed his commands, and we sat smoking and sipping in silence for some moments. Then the President said, suddenly:
"Mr. Martin, this country is in a perilous condition."
"Good God, your Excellency!" said I, "do you refer to the earthquake?" (There had been a slight shock a few days before.)
"No, sir," he replied, "to the finances. The harbor works have proved far more expensive than I anticipated. I hold in my hand the engineer's certificate that nine hundred and three thousand dollars have been actually expended on them, and they are not finished--not by any means finished."
They certainly were not; they were hardly begun.
"Dear me," I ventured to say, "that seems a good deal of money, considering what there is to show for it."
"You cannot doubt the certificate, Mr. Martin," said the President.
I did doubt the certificate, and should have liked to ask what fee the engineer had received. But I hastily said it was, of course, beyond suspicion.
"Yes," said he steadily, "quite beyond suspicion. You see, Mr. Martin, in my position I am compelled to be liberal. The Government cannot set other employers the example of grinding men down by low wages. However, reasons apart, there is the fact. We cannot go on without more money; and I may tell you, in confidence, that the political situation makes it imperative we should go on. Not only is my personal honor pledged, but the Opposition, Mr. Martin, led by the colonel, is making itself obnoxious--yes, I may say very obnoxious."
"The colonel, sir," said I, with a freedom engendered of dining, "is a beast."
"Well," said the President, with a tolerant smile, "the colonel, unhappily for the country, is no true patriot. But he is powerful; he is rich; he is, under myself alone, in command of the army. And, moreover, I believe he stands well with the signorina. The situation, in fact, is desperate. I must have money, Mr. Martin. Will your directors make me a new loan?"
I knew very well the fate that would attend any such application. The directors were already decidedly uneasy about their first loan; shareholders had asked awkward questions, and the chairman had found no small difficulty in showing that the investment was likely to prove either safe or remunerative. Again, only a fortnight before, the Government had made a formal application to me on the same subject. I cabled the directors, and received a prompt reply in the single word "Tootsums," which in our code meant, "Must absolutely and finally decline to entertain any applications." I communicated the contents of the cable to Señor Don Antonio de la Casabianca, the Minister of Finance, who had, of course, communicated them in turn to the President.
I ventured to remind his Excellency of these facts. He heard me with silent attention.
"I fear," I concluded, "therefore, that it is impossible for me to be of any assistance to your Excellency."
He nodded, and gave a slight sigh. Then, with an air of closing the subject, he said:
"I suppose the directors are past reason. Help yourself to a brandy and soda."
"Allow me to mix one for you, sir," I answered.
While I was preparing our beverages he remained silent. When I had sat down again he said:
"You occupy a very responsible position here for so young a man, Mr. Martin--not beyond your merits, I am sure."
"They leave you a pretty free hand, don't they?"
I replied that as far as routine business went I did much as seemed good in my own eyes.
"Routine business? including investments, for instance?" he asked.
"Yes," said I; "investments in the ordinary course of business--discounting bills and putting money out on loan and mortgage over here. I place the money, and merely notify the people at home of what I have done."
"A most proper confidence to repose in you," the President was good enough say. "Confidence is the life of business; you must trust a man. It would be absurd to make you send home the bills, and deeds, and certificate, and what not. Of course they wouldn't do that."
Though this was a statement, somehow it also sounded like a question, so I answered:
"As a rule they do me the compliment of taking my word. The fact is, they are, as your Excellency says, obliged to trust somebody."
"Exactly as I thought. And you sometimes have large sums to place?"
At this point, notwithstanding my respect for the President, I began to smell a rat.
"Oh, no, sir," I replied, "usually very small. Our business is not so extensive as we could wish."
"Whatever," said the President, looking me straight in the face, "whatever may be usual, at this moment you have a large sum--a very respectable sum--of money in your safe at the bank, waiting for investment."
"How the devil do you know that?" I cried.
"Mr. Martin! It is no doubt my fault; I am too prone to ignore etiquette; but you forget yourself."
I hastened to apologize, although I was pretty certain the President was contemplating a queer transaction, if not flat burglary.
"Ten thousand pardons, your Excellency, for my most unbecoming tone, but may I ask how you became possessed of this information?"
"Jones told me," he said simply.
As it would not have been polite to express the surprise I felt at Jones' simplicity in choosing such a confidant, I held my peace.
"Yes," continued the President, "owing to the recent sales of your real property in this country (sales due, I fear, to a want of confidence in my administration), you have at this moment a sum of three hundred thousand dollars in the bank safe. Now (don't interrupt me, please), the experience of a busy life teaches me that commercial reputation and probity depend on results, not on methods. Your directors have a prejudice against me and my Government. That prejudice you, with your superior opportunities for judgment, cannot share. You will serve your employers best by doing for them what they haven't the sense and courage to do for themselves. I propose that you should assume the responsibility of lending me this money. The transaction will redound to the profit of the bank. It shall also," he added slowly, "redound to your profit."
I began to see my way. But there were difficulties.
"What am I to tell the directors?" I asked.
"You will make the usual return of investments and debts outstanding, mortgages, loans on approved security--but you know better than I do."
"False returns, your Excellency means?"
"They will no doubt be formally inaccurate," the President admitted.
"What if they ask for proofs?" said I.
"Sufficient unto the day," said the President.
"You have rather surprised me, sir," I said, "but I am most anxious to oblige you, and to forward the welfare of Aureataland. There are, however, two points which occur to me. First, how am I to be insured against not getting my interest? That I must have."
"Quite so," he interrupted. "And the second point I can anticipate. It is, what token of my gratitude for your timely assistance can I prevail on you to accept?"
"Your Excellency's knowledge of human nature is surprising."
"Kindly give me your attention, Mr. Martin, and I will try to satisfy both your very reasonable requirements. You have $300,000; those you will hand over to me, receiving in return Government six per cent. bonds for that amount, I will then hand back to you $65,000; 45,000 you will retain as security for your interest. In the event of any failure on the part of Aureataland to meet her obligations honorably, you will pay the interest on the whole 300,000 out of that sum. That secures you for more than two years against absolute failure of interest, which in reality you need not fear. Till the money is wanted you will have the use of it. The remaining 20,000 I shall beg of you to accept as your commission, or rather as a token of my esteem. Two hundred thousand absolutely--45,000 as long as Aureataland pays interest! You must admit I deal with you as one gentleman with another, Mr. Martin. In the result, your directors get their interest, I get my loan, you get your bonus. We are all benefited; no one is hurt! All this is affected at the cost of a harmless stratagem."
I was full of admiration. The scheme was very neat, and, as far as the President and myself were concerned, he had been no more than just in pointing out its advantages. As for the directors, they would probably get their interest; anyhow, they would get it for two years. There was risk, of course; a demand for evidence of my alleged investments, or a sudden order to realize a heavy sum at short notice, would bring the house about my ears. But I did not anticipate this contretemps, and at the worst I had my twenty thousand dollars and could make myself scarce therewith. These calculations were quite correct at the moment, but I upset them afterward by spending the dollars and by contracting a tie which made flight from Aureataland a distasteful alternative.
"Well, Mr. Martin," said the President, "do you agree?"
I still hesitated. Was it a moral scruple? Probably not, unless, indeed, prudence and morality are the same thing.
The President rose and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Better say yes. I might take it, you know, and cause you to disappear--believe me, with reluctance, Mr. Martin. It is true I shouldn't like this course. It would perhaps make my position here untenable. But not having the money would certainly make it untenable."
I saw the force of this argument, and gulping down my brandy and soda, I said:
"I can refuse your Excellency nothing."
"Then take your hat and come along to the bank," said he.
This was sharp work.
"Your Excellency does not mean to take the money now--to-night?" I exclaimed.
"Not to take, Mr. Martin--to receive it from you. We have made our bargain. What is the objection to carrying it out promptly?"
"But I must have the bonds. They must be prepared, sir."
"They are here," he said, taking a bundle from the drawer of a writing-table. "Three hundred thousand dollars, six per cent. stock, signed by myself, and countersigned by Don Antonio. Take your hat and come along."
I did as I was bid.
AN EXCESS OF AUTHORITY.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, and Whittingham was looking her best as we made our way along the avenue leading to the Piazza 1871. The President walked briskly, silent but serene; I followed, the trouble in my mind reflected in a somewhat hang-dog air, and I was not much comforted when the President broke the stillness of the night by saying:
"You have set your foot on the first rung of the ladder that leads to fame and wealth, Mr. Martin."
I was rather afraid I had set it on the first rung of the ladder that leads to the gallows. But there the foot was; what the ladder turned out to be was in the hands of the gods; so I threw off care, and as we entered the Piazza I pointed to the statue and said:
"Behold my inspiring example, your Excellency."
"By Jove, yes!" he replied; "I make the most of my opportunities."
I knew he regarded me as one of his opportunities, and was making the most of me. This is not a pleasant point of view to regard one's self from, so I changed the subject, and said:
"Shall we call for Don Antonio?"
"Well, as he's Minister of Finance, I thought perhaps his presence would make the matter more regular."
"If the presence of the President," said that official, "can't make a matter regular, I don't know what can. Let him sleep on. Isn't his signature on the bonds enough?"
What could I do? I made one more weak objection:
"What shall we tell Jones?"
"What shall we tell Jones?" he echoed. "Really, Mr. Martin, you must use your discretion as to what you tell your employees. You can hardly expect me to tell Jones anything, beyond that it's a fine morning."
We had now reached the bank, which stood in Liberty Street, a turning out of the Piazza. I took out my key, unlocked the door, and we entered together. We passed into my inner sanctum, where the safe stood.
"What's it in?" asked the President.
"United States bonds, and bills on New York and London," I replied.
"Good," said he. "Let me look."
I undid the safe, and took out the securities. He examined them carefully, placing each after due scrutiny in a small handbag, in which he had brought down the bonds I was to receive. I stood by, holding a shaded candle. At this moment a voice cried from the door:
"If you move you're dead men!"
I started and looked up. The President looked up without starting. There was dear old Jones, descended from his upper chamber, where he and Mrs. Jones resided. He was clad only in his night-shirt, and was leveling a formidable gun full at the august head of his Excellency.
"Ah, Mr. Jones," said the latter "it's a fine morning."
"Good Heavens, the President!" cried Jones; "and Mr. Martin! Why, what on earth, gentlemen--"
The President gently waved one hand toward me, as if to say, "Mr. Martin will explain," and went on placing his securities in the bag.
In face of this crisis my hesitation left me.
"I have received a cable from Europe, Jones," said I, "instructing me to advance a sum of money to his Excellency; I am engaged in carrying out these instructions."
"Cable?" said Jones. "Where is it?"
"In my pocket," said I, feeling for it. "No! Why I must have left it at the Golden House."
The President came to my assistance.
"I saw it on the table just before we started. Though I presume Mr. Jones has no right--"
"None at all," I said briskly.
"Yet, as a matter of concession, Mr. Martin will no doubt show it to him to-morrow?"
"Strictly as a matter of concession perhaps I will, though I am bound to say that I am surprised at your manner, Mr. Jones."
Jones looked sadly puzzled.
"It's all irregular, sir," said he.
"Hardly more so than your costume!" said the President pleasantly.
Jones was a modest man, and being thus made aware of the havoc the draught was playing with his airy covering, he hastily closed the door, and said to me appealingly:
"It's all right, sir, I suppose?"
"Perfectly right," said I.
"But highly confidential," added the President. "And you will put me under a personal obligation, Mr. Jones, and at the same time fulfill your duty to your employers, if you preserve silence till the transaction is officially announced. A man who serves me does not regret it."
Here he was making the most of another opportunity--Jones this time.
"Enough of this," I said. "I will go over the matter in the morning, and meanwhile hadn't you better go back to--"
"Mrs. Jones," interjected his Excellency. "And mind, silence, Mr. Jones!"
He walked up to Jones as he said this, and looked hard at him.
"Silent men prosper best, and live longest, Mr. Jones."
Jones looked into his steely eyes, and suddenly fell all of a tremble.
The President was satisfied. He abruptly pushed him out of the room, and we heard his shambling steps going up the staircase.
His Excellency turned to me, and said with apparent annoyance:
"You leave a great deal to me, Mr. Martin."
He had certainly done more than tell Jones it was a fine morning. But I was too much troubled to thank him; I was thinking of the cable. The President divined my thoughts, and said:
"You must prepare that cable."
"Yes," I replied; "that would reassure him. But I haven't had much practice in that sort of thing, and I don't quite know--"
The President scribbled a few words on a bit of paper, and said:
"Take that to the post office and they'll give you the proper form; you can fill it up."
Certainly some things go easily if the head of the state is your fellow-criminal.
"And now, Mr. Martin, it grows late. I have my securities; you have your bonds. We have won over Jones. All goes well. Aureataland is saved. You have made your fortune, for there lie your sixty-five thousand dollars. And, in fine, I am much obliged to you. I will not trouble you to attend me on my return. Good-night, Mr. Martin."
He went out, and I threw myself down in my office chair, and sat gazing at the bonds he had left me. I wondered whether he had merely made a tool of me; whether I could trust him; whether I had done well to sacrifice my honesty, relying on his promises. And yet there lay my reward; and, as purely moral considerations did not trouble me, I soon arose, put the Government bonds and the sixty-five thousand dollars in securities in the safe, locked up everything, and went home to my lodgings. As I went in it was broad daylight, for the clock had gone five, and I met Father Jacques sallying forth. He had already breakfasted, and was on his way to administer early consolation to the flower-women in the Piazza. He stopped me with a grieved look, and said:
"Ah, my friend, these are untimely hours."
I saw I was laboring under an unjust suspicion--a most revolting thing.
"I have only just come from the bank," I said. "I had to dine at the Golden House and afterward returned to finish up a bit of work."
"Ah! that is well," he cried. "It is, then, the industrious and not the idle apprentice I meet?" referring to a series of famous prints with which my room was decorated, a gift from my father on my departure.
I nodded and passed on, saying to myself: "Deuced industrious, indeed. Not many men have done such a night's work as I have."
And that was how my fortunes became bound up with those of the Aureataland national debt.
OVERTURES FROM THE OPPOSITION.
After the incidents above recorded, things went on quietly enough for some months. I had a serious talk with Jones, reproaching him gravely for his outrageous demeanor. He capitulated abjectly on being shown the cable, which was procured in the manner kindly indicated by the President. The latter had perhaps been in too great a hurry with his heavy guns, for his hint of violence had rather stirred than allayed Jones' apprehensions. If there were nothing to conceal, why should his Excellency not stick at murder to hide it? However, I explained to him the considerations of high policy, dictating inviolable secrecy, and justifying a somewhat arbitrary way of dealing with a trusted official; and the marked graciousness with which Jones was received when he met the President at the ministry of finance on current business went far to obliterate his unpleasant recollections. I further bound him to my fortunes by obtaining for him a rise of salary from the directors, "in consequence of the favorable report of his conduct received from Mr. Martin."
Peaceful as matters seemed, I was not altogether at ease. To begin with the new loan did not apparently at all improve the financial position of Aureataland. Desolation still reigned on the scene of the harbor works; there was the usual difficulty in paying salaries and meeting current expenditure. The President did not invite my confidence as to the disposal of his funds; indeed before long I was alarmed to see a growing coldness in his manner, which I considered at once ungrateful and menacing; and when the half-year came round he firmly refused to disburse more than half the amount of interest due on the second loan, thus forcing me to make an inroad on my reserve of forty-five thousand dollars. He gave me many good reasons for this course of conduct, dwelling chiefly on the necessary unproductiveness of public works in their early stages, and confidently promising full payment with arrears next time. Nevertheless, I began to see that I must face the possibility of a continual drain on resources that I had fondly hoped would be available for my own purposes for a considerable time at least. Thus one thing and another contributed to open a breach between his Excellency and myself, and, although I never ceased to feel his charm as a private companion, my distrust of him as a ruler, and, I may add, as a fellow-conspirator, steadily deepened.
Other influences were at this time--for we have now reached the beginning of 1883--at work in the same direction. Rich in the possession of my "bonus," I had plunged even more freely than before into the gayeties of Whittingham, and where I was welcome before, I was now a doubly honored guest. I had also taken to play on a somewhat high scale, and it was my reputation as a daring gambler that procured me the honor of an acquaintance with the signorina, the lady to whom the President had referred during his interview with me; and my acquaintance with the signorina was very rich in results.
This lady was, after the President, perhaps the best-known person in Aureataland--best known, that is, by name and face and fame--for her antecedents and circumstances were wrapped in impenetrable mystery. When I arrived in the country the Signorina Christina Nugent had been settled there about a year. She had appeared originally as a member of an operatic company, which had paid a visit to our National Theater from the United States. The company passed on its not very brilliant way, but the signorina remained behind. It was said she had taken a fancy to Whittingham, and, being independent of her profession, had determined to make a sojourn there. At any rate, there she was; whether she took a fancy to Whittingham, or whether someone in Whittingham took a fancy to her, remained in doubt. She established herself in a pretty villa closely adjoining the Golden House; it stood opposite the presidential grounds, commanding a view of that stately inclosure; and here she dwelt, under the care of a lady whom she called "Aunt," known to the rest of the world as Mrs. Carrington. The title "Signorina" was purely professional; for all I know the name "Nugent" was equally a creature of choice; but, anyhow, the lady herself never professed to be anything but English, and openly stated that she retained her title simply because it was more musical than that of "Miss." The old lady and the young one lived together in great apparent amity, and certainly in the utmost material comfort; for they probably got through more money than anyone in the town, and there always seemed to be plenty more where that came from. Where it did come from was, I need hardly say, a subject of keen curiosity in social circles; and when I state that the signorina was now about twenty-three years of age, and of remarkably prepossessing appearance, it will be allowed that we in Whittingham were no worse than other people if we entertained some uncharitable suspicions. The signorina, however, did not make the work of detection at all easy. She became almost at once a leading figure in society; her salon was the meeting-place of all parties and most sets; she received many gracious attentions from the Golden House, but none on which slander could definitely settle. She was also frequently the hostess of members of the Opposition, and of no one more often than their leader, Colonel George McGregor, a gentleman of Scotch extraction, but not pronouncedly national characteristics, who had attained a high position in the land of his adoption; for not only did he lead the Opposition in politics, but he was also second in command of the army. He entered the Chamber as one of the President's nominees (for the latter had reserved to himself power to nominate five members), but at the time of which I write the colonel had deserted his former chief, and, secure in his popularity with the forces, defied the man by whose help he had risen. Naturally, the President disliked him, a feeling I cordially shared. But his Excellency's disapproval did not prevent the signorina receiving McGregor with great cordiality, though here again with no more empressement than his position seemed to demand.
I have as much curiosity as my neighbors, and I was proportionately gratified when the doors of "Mon Repos," as the signorina called her residence, were opened to me. My curiosity, I must confess, was not unmixed with other feelings; for I was a young man at heart, though events had thrown sobering responsibilities upon me, and the sight of the signorina in her daily drives was enough to inspire a thrill even in the soul of a bank manager. She was certainly very beautiful--a tall, fair girl, with straight features and laughing eyes. I shall not attempt more description, because all such descriptions sound commonplace, and the signorina was, even by the admission of her enemies, at least very far from commonplace. It must suffice to say that, like Father O'Flynn, she "had such a way with her" that all of us men in Aureataland, old and young, rich and poor, were at her feet, or ready to be there on the least encouragement. She was, to my thinking, the very genius of health, beauty, and gayety; and she put the crowning touch to her charms by very openly and frankly soliciting and valuing the admiration she received. For, after all, it's only exceptional men who are attracted by difficile beauty; to most of us a gracious reception of our timid advances is the most subtle temptation of the devil.
It may be supposed, then, that I thought my money very well invested when it procured me an invitation to "Mon Repos," where the lady of the house was in the habit of allowing a genteel amount of gambling among her male friends. She never played herself, but stood and looked on with much interest. On occasion she would tempt fortune by the hand of a chosen deputy, and nothing could be prettier or more artistic than her behavior. She was just eager enough for a girl unused to the excitement and fond of triumph, just indifferent enough to show that her play was merely a pastime, and the gain of the money or its loss a matter of no moment. Ah! signorina, you were a great artist.
At "Mon Repos" I soon became an habitual, and, I was fain to think, a welcome, guest. Mrs. Carrington, who entertained a deep distrust of the manners and excesses of Aureataland, was good enough to consider me eminently respectable, while the signorina was graciousness itself. I was even admitted to the select circle at the dinner party which, as a rule, preceded her Wednesday evening reception, and I was a constant figure round the little roulette board, which, of all forms of gaming, was our hostess' favorite delectation. The colonel was, not to my pleasure, an equally invariable guest, and the President himself would often honor the party with his presence, an honor we found rather expensive, for his luck at all games of skill or chance was extraordinary.
"I have always trusted Fortune," he would say, "and to me she is not fickle."
"Who would be fickle if your Excellency were pleased to trust her?" the signorina would respond, with a glance of almost fond admiration.
This sort of thing did not please McGregor. He made no concealment of the fact that he claimed the foremost place among the signorina's admirers, utterly declining to make way even for the President. The latter took his boorishness very quietly; and I could not avoid the conclusion that the President held, or thought he held, the trumps. I was, naturally, intensely jealous of both these great men, and, although I had no cause to complain of my treatment, I could not stifle some resentment at the idea that I was, after all, an outsider and not allowed a part in the real drama that was going on. My happiness was further damped by the fact that luck ran steadily against me, and I saw my bonus dwindling very rapidly. I suppose I may as well be frank, and confess that my bonus, to speak strictly, vanished within six months after I first set foot in "Mon Repos," and I found it necessary to make that temporary use of the "interest fund," which the President had indicated as open to me under the terms of our bargain. However, my uneasiness on this score was lightened when the next installment of interest was punctually paid, and, with youthful confidence, I made little doubt that luck would turn before long.
Thus time passed on, and the beginning of 1884 found us all leading an apparently merry and untroubled life. In public affairs the temper was very different. The scarcity of money was intense, and serious murmuring had arises when the President "squandered" his ready money in buying interest, leaving his civil servants and soldiers unpaid. This was the topic of much discussion in the press at the time, when I went up one March evening to the signorina's. I had been detained at the bank, and found the play in full swing when I came in. The signorina was taking no part in it, but sat by herself on a low lounge by the veranda window. I went up to her and made my bow.
"You spare us but little of your time, Mr. Martin," she said.
"Ah, but you have all my thoughts," I replied, for she was looking charming.
"I don't care so much about your thoughts," she said. Then, after a pause, she went on, "It's very hot here, come into the conservatory."
It almost looked as though she had been waiting for me, and I followed in high delight into the long, narrow glass house running parallel to the salon. High green plants hid us from the view of those inside, and we only heard distinctly his Excellency's voice, saying with much geniality to the colonel, "Well, you must be lucky in love, colonel," from which I concluded that the colonel was not in the vein at cards.
The signorina smiled slightly as she heard; then she plucked a white rose, turned round, and stood facing me, slightly flushed as though with some inner excitement.
"I am afraid those two gentlemen do not love one another," she said.
"Hardly," I assented.
"And you, do you love them--or either of them?"
"I love only one person in Aureataland," I replied, as ardently as I dared.
The signorina bit her rose, glancing up at me with unfeigned amusement and pleasure. I think I have mentioned that she didn't object to honest admiration.
"Is it possible you mean me?" she said, making me a little courtesy. "I only think so because most of the Whittingham ladies would not satisfy your fastidious taste."
"No lady in the world could satisfy me except one," I answered, thinking she took it a little too lightly.
"Ah! so you say," she said. "And yet I don't suppose you would do anything for me, Mr. Martin?"
"It would be my greatest happiness," I cried.
She said nothing, but stood there, biting the rose.
"Give it to me," I said; "it shall be my badge of service."
"You will serve me, then?" said she.
"For what reward?"
"Why, the rose!"
"I should like the owner too," I ventured to remark.
"The rose is prettier than the owner," she said; "and, at any rate, one thing at a time, Mr. Martin! Do you pay your servants all their wages in advance?"
My practice was so much the contrary that I really couldn't deny the force of her reasoning. She held out the rose. I seized it and pressed it close to my lips, thereby squashing it considerably.
"Dear me," said the signorina, "I wonder if I had given you the other thing whether you would have treated it so roughly."
"I'll show you in a moment," said I.
"Thank you, no, not just now," she said, showing no alarm, for she knew she was safe with me. Then she said abruptly:
"Are you a Constitutionalist or a Liberal, Mr. Martin?"
I must explain that, in the usual race for the former title, the President's party had been first at the post, and the colonel's gang (as I privately termed it) had to put up with the alternative designation. Neither name bore any relation to facts.
"Are we going to talk politics?" said I reproachfully.
"Yes, a little; you see we got to an impasse on the other topic. Tell me."
"Which are you, signorina?" I asked.
I really wanted to know; so did a great many people.
She thought for a moment, and then said:
"I have a great regard for the President. He has been most kind to me. He has shown me real affection."
"The devil he has!" I muttered.
"I beg your pardon?" said she.
"I only said, 'Of course he has.' The President has the usual complement of eyes."
The signorina smiled again, but went on as if I hadn't spoken.
"On the other hand, I cannot disguise from myself that some of his measures are not wise."
I said I had never been able to disguise it from myself.
"The colonel, of course, is of the same opinion," she continued. "About the debt, for instance. I believe your bank is interested in it?"
This was no secret, so I said:
"Oh, yes, to a considerable extent."
"And you?" she asked softly.
"Oh, I am not a capitalist! no money of mine has gone into the debt."
"No money of yours, no. But aren't you interested in it?" she persisted.
This was rather odd. Could she know anything?
She drew nearer to me, and, laying a hand lightly on my arm, said reproachfully:
"Do you love people, and yet not trust them, Mr. Martin?"
This was exactly my state of feeling toward the signorina, but I could not say so. I was wondering how far I should be wise to trust her, and that depended largely on how far his Excellency had seen fit to trust her with my secrets. I finally said:
"Without disclosing other people's secrets, signorina, I may admit that if anything went wrong with the debt my employers' opinion of my discretion would be severely shaken."
"Of your discretion," she said, laughing. "Thank you, Mr. Martin. And you would wish that not to happen?"
"I would take a good deal of pains to prevent its happening."
"Not less willingly if your interest and mine coincided?"
I was about to make a passionate reply when we heard the President's voice saying:
"And where is our hostess? I should like to thank her before I go."
"Hush," whispered the signorina. "We must go back. You will be true to me, Mr. Martin?"
"Call me Jack," said I idiotically.
"Then you will be true, O Jack?" she said, stifling a laugh.
"Till death," said I, hoping it would not be necessary.
She gave me her hand, which I kissed with fervor, and we returned to the salon, to find all the players risen from the table and standing about in groups, waiting to make their bows till the President had gone through that ceremony. I was curious to hear if anything passed between him and the signorina, but I was pounced upon by Donna Antonia, the daughter of the minister of finance, who happened to be present, notwithstanding the late hour, as a guest of the signorina's for the night. She was a handsome young lady, a Spanish brunette of the approved pattern, but with manners formed at a New York boarding school, where she had undergone a training that had tempered, without destroying, her native gentility. She had distinguished me very favorably, and I was vain enough to suppose she honored me by some jealousy of my penchant for the signorina.
"I hope you have enjoyed yourself in the conservatory," she said maliciously.
"We were talking business, Donna Antonia," I replied.
"Ah! business! I hear of nothing but business. There is papa gone down to the country and burying himself alive to work out some great scheme of business."
I pricked up my ears.
"Ah! what scheme is that?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know! Something about that horrid debt. But I was told not to say anything about it!"
The debt was becoming a bore. The whole air was full of it. I hastily paid Donna Antonia a few incoherent compliments, and took my leave. As I was putting on my coat Colonel McGregor joined me and, with more friendliness than he usually showed me, accompanied me down the avenue toward the Piazza. After some indifferent remarks he began:
"Martin, you and I have separate interests in some matters, but I think we have the same in others."
I knew at once what he meant; it was that debt over again!
I remained silent, and he continued:
"About the debt, for instance. You are interested in the debt?"
"Somewhat," said I. "A banker generally is interested in a debt."
"I thought so," said the colonel. "A time may come when we can act together. Meanwhile, keep your eye on the debt. Good-night!"
We parted at the door of his chambers in the Piazza, and I went on to my lodgings.
As I got into bed, rather puzzled and very uneasy, I damned the debt. Then, remembering that the debt was, as it seemed, for some reason a common interest to the signorina and myself, I apologized to it, and fell asleep.
I APPRECIATE THE SITUATION.
The flight of time brought no alleviation to the troubles of Aureataland. If an individual hard up is a pathetic sight, a nation hard up is an alarming spectacle; and Aureataland was very hard up. I suppose somebody had some money. But the Government had none; in consequence the Government employees had none, the officials had none, the President had none, and finally, I had none. The bank had a little--of other people's, of course--but I was quite prepared for a "run" on us any day, and had cabled to the directors to implore a remittance in cash, for our notes were at a discount humiliating to contemplate. Political strife ran high. I dropped into the House of Assembly one afternoon toward the end of May, and, looking down from the gallery, saw the colonel in the full tide of wrathful declamation. He was demanding of miserable Don Antonio when the army was to be paid. The latter sat cowering under his scorn, and would, I verily believe, have bolted out of the House had he not been nailed to his seat by the cold eye of the President, who was looking on from his box. The minister on rising had nothing to urge but vague promises of speedy payment; but he utterly lacked the confident effrontery of his chief, and nobody was deceived by his weak protestations. I left the House in a considerable uproar, and strolled on to the house of a friend of mine, one Mme. Devarges, the widow of a French gentleman who had found his way to Whittingham from New Calendonia. Politeness demanded the assumption that he had found his way to New Caledonia owing to political troubles, but the usual cloud hung over the precise date and circumstances of his patriotic sacrifice. Madame sometimes considered it necessary to bore herself and others with denunciations of the various tyrants or would-be tyrants of France; but, apart from this pious offering on the shrine of her husband's reputation, she was a bright and pleasant little woman. I found assembled round her tea-table a merry party, including Donna Antonia, unmindful of her father's agonies, and one Johnny Carr, who deserves mention as being the only honest man in Aureataland. I speak, of course, of the place as I found it. He was a young Englishman, what they call a "cadet," of a good family, shipped off with a couple of thousand pounds to make his fortune. Land was cheap among us, and Johnny had bought an estate and settled down as a landowner. Recently he had blossomed forth as a keen Constitutionalist and a devoted admirer of the President's, and held a seat in the assembly in that interest. Johnny was not a clever man nor a wise one, but he was merry, and, as I have thought it necessary to mention, honest.
"Hallo, Johnny! Why not at the House?" said I to him. "You'll want every vote to-night. Be off and help the ministry, and take Donna Antonia with you. They're eating up the Minister of Finance."
"All right! I'm going as soon as I've had another muffin," said Johnny. "But what's the row about?"
"Well, they want their money," I replied; "and Don Antonio won't give it them. Hence bad feeling."
"Tell you what it is," said Johnny; "he hasn't got a--"
Here Donna Antonia struck in, rather suddenly, I thought.
"Do stop the gentleman talking politics, Mme. Devarges. They'll spoil our tea-party."
"Your word is law," I said; "but I should like to know what Don Antonio hasn't got."
"Now do be quiet," she rejoined; "isn't it quite enough that he has got--a charming daughter?"
"And a most valuable one," I replied, with a bow, for I saw that for some reason or other Donna Antonia did not mean to let me pump Johnny Carr, and I wanted to pump him.
"Don't say another word, Mr. Carr," she said, with a laugh. "You know you don't know anything, do you?"
"Good Lord, no!" said Johnny.
Meanwhile Mme. Devarges was giving me a cup of tea. As she handed it to me, she said in a low voice:
"If I were his friend I should take care Johnny didn't know anything, Mr. Martin."
"If I were his friend I should take care he told me what he knew, Mme. Devarges," I replied.
"Perhaps that's what the colonel thinks," she said. "Johnny has just been telling us how very attentive he has become. And the signorina too, I hear."
"You don't mean that?" I exclaimed. "But, after all, pure kindness, no doubt!"
"You have received many attentions from those quarters," she said. "No doubt you are a good judge of the motives."
"Don't, now don't be disagreeable," said I. "I came here for peace."
"Poor young man! have you lost all your money? Is it possible that you, like Don Antonio, haven't got a--"
"What is going to happen?" I asked, for Mme. Devarges often had information.
"I don't know," she said. "But if I owned national bonds, I should sell."
"Pardon me, madame; you would offer to sell."
"Ah! I see my advice comes too late."
I did not see any need to enlighten her farther. So I passed on to Donna Antonia, who had sat somewhat sulkily since her outburst. I sat down by her and said:
"Surely I haven't offended you?"
"You know you wouldn't care if you had," she said, with a reproachful but not unkind glance. "Now, if it were the signorina--"
I never object to bowing down in the temple of Rimmon, so I said:
"Hang the signorina!"
"If I thought you meant that," said Donna Antonia, "I might be able to help you."
"Do I want help?" I asked.
"Yes," said she.
"Then suppose I do mean it?"
Donna Antonia refused to be frivolous. With a look of genuine distress she said:
"You will not let your real friends save you, Mr. Martin. You know you want help. Why don't you consider the state of your affairs?"
"In that, at least, my friends in Whittingham are very ready to help me," I answered, with some annoyance.
"If you take it in that way," she replied sadly, "I can do nothing."
I was rather touched. Clearly she wished to be of some use to me, and for a moment I thought I might do better to tear myself free from my chains, and turn to the refuge opened to me. But I could not do this; and, thinking it would be rather mean to take advantage of her interest in me only to use it for my own purposes, I yielded to conscience and said:
"Donna Antonia, I will be straightforward with you. You can only help me if I accept your guidance? I can't do that. I am too deep in."
"Yes, you are deep in, and eager to be deeper," she said. "Well, so be it. If that is so I cannot help you."
"Thank you for your kind attempt," said I. "I shall very likely be sorry some day that I repulse it. I shall always be glad to remember that you made it."
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